Lost and Found
by Dee8
Summary: CJ/Simon. AU where Ritchie won and Simon is alive. When her life falls apart, can he put it back together?


When it was all over, there were recriminations, tears, and endless talks among the Senior Staffers about what went wrong, and what could have been done better, or just differently. No one pointed a finger in the direction of the Oval Office, but CJ heard Toby mutter "Uncle Fluffy" and "debate" the day she went to give him her notice. He looked at her incredulously. It was the Friday after the election they so badly lost.

"Only rats leave a sinking ship."

She thanked him for his kind words and left, before he had a chance to ask why she intended on leaving so fast, or what plans she had for the future.

She felt her life was falling apart like her father's mind -- in bits and pieces and threads of disjointed conversations that made no sense. The only constant, grounding presence in her life was Simon, who tried hard to pick up the pieces. She loved him so much it scared her, because she was convinced she would lose him too, sooner or later. When he told her he'd be back on the President's detail when Ritchie took office, she found him a suitable scapegoat for all the pain and hurt and fear that had built up in her over the past year. When she told him it was over, for the first time in her life she realized it's possible to see a heart shatter. It was on his face, and in his eyes, in the tears that he didn't bother to wipe away. It was in his broken voice, the day he dropped her off at the airport, when he bagged her not to close the door on the two of them. She walked away and never looked back, because she never wanted him to see her own shattered being.

She fled to California, to her brother Carl's place. She often thought how ironic it was that Carl and Pete's relationship lasted twenty-five years already, surviving death-threats, lost jobs, and everything else society could throw at a devoted gay couple. How was it that Carl's kid sister, who's led a sheltered, privileged life compared to his, kept screwing up so royally when it came to what was important? The guys tended to her wounded soul without asking too many questions, for which she was eternally grateful. Her other brother, Chris, Hogan's dad, was well-intentioned but nosy. Whenever she needed shelter, she ran to Carl and Pete. Except this time, where she really wanted to be was in Simon's arms. For the first time in her life, she had what she always wished for when she watched her brother and his life-partner. Yet she threw it away.

She woke up at nights calling out to him, reaching for the empty side of the bed where he should have been. Her nightmares consisted of his face at the airport, his voice calling her name one more time when she walked away toward her gate. During the days, her waking nightmares consisted of watching the news detail the dying administration's final days, and not hearing a word from the friends she's betrayed so deeply.

"Ceej, someone here to see you," called Pete.

Sam, she thought. The only one who kept in touch. Simple, uncomplicated Sam, who would drop by to pick her brain on his campaign's media strategy, and stick around to shoot the breeze with her and the guys. They lived in what she optimistically already called "his district," and they assured him he's got their vote. "Or else Claudia would have our hearts for breakfast," teased Pete, and she growled her agreement. 

CJ got up and went into the hallway, expecting to greet Sam. She stopped dead when she saw her guest.

"Danny?"

"People in DC call you a rat."

"So I've heard. You came all this way to tell me something I already know?"

"I could say I came because I found your broken heart in DC and I can mend it, but we both know I'm not that guy. I came because I heard a friend of mine was hurting, and I thought I'd try to help ease her pain."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Have you heard the rumor about the Secret Service agent who's asking to be transferred off the President's detail?"

CJ sucked in her breath and turned away from the red-headed reporter. "I don't hear rumors that concern the Secret Service."

"Well, I do. Seems this guy – a top-notch protection agent, wants a transfer to the…get this…LA Field Office, where he will undoubtedly be stuck doing counterfeit investigations. All for the chance to be close to the woman who ditched him when she fled DC."

CJ turned around, slowly, her eyes wide, the look on her face…it was a look Danny often prayed to be able to bring to her face. The irony of the situation, that he brought it on by talking about Simon, wasn't lost on him.

"How…" she stopped, her face closing again, the pain back in her eyes. "It doesn't really matter, does it? Why would he ever…"

"Because he loves you, you moron!" Danny cut in, angrily. He wasn't sure if he was angrier at the fact she felt the same for Simon, not him, or at the fact that she was so pig-headed. He went on with an exasperated sigh. "Look, I don't know what you were striking out at when you left him, but it sure as hell boomeranged, didn't it? Call him up."

"I can't," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because I can't forget the hurt in his eyes."

"Don't you understand that by punishing yourself for hurting him you're punishing him as well? For what? For loving you so much? It never seemed to scare you when I did."

"He's different," she whispered, than sucked in her breath when she saw the look that came over his face. "Danny, I didn't mean it that way…I just…seem to have the talent to hurt and alienate everyone I care for."

"Well thanks for clearing it up, CJ. I feel much better now." He stepped closer to her, and spoke softly. "I came here trying to help you get back together with someone you love who isn't me. But I can't save you from yourself, CJ. I've used up my martyr complex on my original mission." 

With that, he turned around and left.

On Christmas Eve, CJ refused to come out of her room. While Carl and Peter did their loving best to cheer her up, she told them she'd rather be a hermit than put a damper on their Christmas. In the midst of a gentle argument with Carl, the doorbell rang. They heard muffled voices downstairs, and than the sound of quick footsteps bounding up the stairs. 

Of everything CJ thought she would do or say if she saw Simon again, what she actually did was the last thing she expected. Without knowing how she closed the space between them, she was suddenly in his arms, crying uncontrollably, whispering everything she wanted to say for so long, and so much more. 

He held her close, breathing her name in a tone of a soldier home from the battle, his hands raking her hair and caressing her back. When they finally separated, she touched his face and asked a question with her eyes.

He shook his head, his face still wet with tears. "Concannon came to see me when he returned from California. I used to resent the hell out of the man, knowing the history you shared, and the fact that he was so close to you, all day, every day. But he…I underestimated him." He took an envelope out of his coat. "He asked me to give you this."

She turned so that he could read over her shoulder, because she never wanted him to wonder, ever again, where her heart belonged. There was a single sentence on the paper she unfolded:

"He found your broken heart in DC, and he can mend it."   


End file.
